Runner
by WasabiLemon
Summary: AU. After an injury leaves Axel stranded in a new town and dependent on others, he meets Roxas, a wealthy boy completely unlike him. Though they have different pasts and different lives, they can offer each other a whole new outlook on life. [AkuRoku]
1. Blue Eyes

My first fanfic!

w00t.

Eventual AxelRoxas (and maybe other pairings too, I'm not sure yet)

A little inspired by Markus Zusak's The Book Thief.

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, it's all Disney/SquareEnix/whoever's.

Blue Eyes

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Axel collapsed, falling backward into the red mud of the battlefield. He stared up at the dark sky as cold rain covered him, mixing with the blood and dirt on his face and running into his eyes. He felt torn apart, and his leg was burning. The soldier Axel had been struggling with lay on the ground several feet to his side. Axel could see him if he tilted his head a little to the right.

The blonde soldier was struggling to load a small pistol.

'Don't make this so hard,' Axel wished silently, reaching a hand into one of the many pockets on his uniform and extracting a knife.

He turned over on his side to face the slightly smaller man and began pulling himself along, crawling over bodies and bits of debris, the mud and gore clinging to his hands. The blonde saw him coming and became desperate, frantically trying to jam bullets into the gun.

'It's just the two of us, buddy. You and me.'

Axel closed the distance between himself and his target, every movement causing him agony. His left leg refused to obey him, a useless addition he was forced to drag along; each inch he crawled made the limb feel more like splintering wood.

'I'm sorry.'

Axel was nearly on top of the enemy soldier, who was still fiddling with the dirty, useless pistol. Axel wrenched the thing from his hands and flung it to the side. The young soldier sat up and wrapped a pale hand around Axel's arm, pleading. He looked up and met Axel's bright green eyes, his own aquamarine blue ones filled with fear and anxiety. Axel looked away.

He slid the knife into the blue eyed soldier-- into his side and under his ribcage.

The blonde's mouth parted slightly as he gasped. He let go of Axel and slowly lowered himself to the ground, his eyes wide.

'I'm sorry.'

Axel wiped a large smudge of mud from the other boy's face.

'You're smaller than me. And younger than me, I bet. And I've done this a hundred times before. I'm sorry, because you never had a chance.'

Light blue eyes gouged into him, accusing and questioning. Axel closed them.

He leaned back on one elbow and ran a hand through his muddy hair. From what he could see, he was the only living man around. The rain fell harder.

"Damn," he murmured.

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"Axel? Axeeeeel? Hey, man. You in there?"

A hand tapped against Axel's head and he reached to swat at it.

"Whoa! _Someone's_ awake. About time, too. I was going crazy. There's no one to talk to around here," a chirpy voice said excitedly.

Axel kept his eyes shut, frowning. 'I hate chirpy voices.'

"Open 'em up, Ax. I'm your best friend, and the savior of your life, I might add. I know you like I know myself. Only better."

"Shut up, Demyx. You're hurting my head, so stop talking. And when did you become my savior, exactly?" Axel questioned.

Demyx grinned. "When the trucks started loading up and I realized you weren't there."

Axel opened his eyes to give his friend a disbelieving look.

"Yup, that's right," Demyx continued. "I ran around, slogging through mud and dead bodies to find you. And when I did, you were out cold, and I had to carry you back. Well, it was more like dragging you, but you know what I mean. If you weren't so damn tall…" he trailed off, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. "I got back just as the trucks were rolling out. Lucky for us."

Axel shut his eyes again. Demyx amazed him sometimes. Axel wanted to hug him and praise him and maybe even kiss him, but he settled for something more nonchalant.

He cracked open one startling green eye. "Thanks, Dem."

"Hey, no problem. Need a hundred and thirty pound body carried half a mile? Just call me," he chuckled, laughing at himself. He stopped suddenly, his laughter falling off into silence, and pulled something out of his pocket.

"Axel, when I found you, you were holding on to some kid real tight. I went through his pockets quick to see if there was anything worth taking, but all he had was a photo. I thought… you might… you know, want it?"

Axel took the picture carefully. He held it by the edges, as if afraid that one touch would render the already bloodstained photo indiscernible.

It was a family portrait. The soldier that Axel had knifed stood next to his father, while his mother sat in front of them with a young child on her lap. The blue eyed kid was smiling; he looked altogether different from the scared, soiled man he had killed.

Axel stared at it. He sighed and put the photo face down on his bedside table. Demyx unfolded his hands and put one on top of Axel's head, running his fingers through the bright red hair, combing out some of the larger knots.

Demyx pursed his lips. "Are you hungry? Do you want me to go get you some food?"

"No, I hate hospital food. I'd rather starve," he said dryly. "Besides, if I wanted some food, I'd just go get it myself."

Demyx looked at Axel doubtfully. "I dunno," he started, looking unsure.

Axel narrowed his eyes, reading the look on Demyx's face. "What do you mean, Dem?"

"Axel, I-" Demyx stopped, biting his lip. He started again. "Axel, you've been in here for over a week. I've been sitting here almost the whole time." He avoided looking Axel in the eye.

Axel nodded. "Spit it out, Dem. You know I can't stand beating around the bush."

"I was there for your surgery, Ax."

"What surgery?"

"The one for your leg. It's… not good, Axel," he muttered, scratching the back of his head.

"Well," Axel said lowly, getting impatient, "just how bad is it?"

"They don't think you'll be able to walk again," Demyx said bluntly. "At least not without crutches," he added, looking up to gauge Axel's reaction.

Axel's head swam.

'Am I dreaming? Please let this be my conscience punishing me by giving me horrible nightmares. It's just karma, biting me in the ass. Let me be dreaming,' Axel thought fervently, squeezing his eyes shut. His heart sank down to his stomach, a feeling he normally associated only with the anxiety of a parachute drop or a charge across enemy lines; it felt strange to have such strong emotion in a blank, un-stimulating place such as this.

He could feel long, calloused fingers pulling gently at his hair, stroking his face, running over his closed eyes.

"It's okay, Ax," Demyx whispered by his ear, "I'm here. I'll be here."

Axel felt a strong hand grasp his and eventually fell back into sleep. He dreamt only of blue eyes that night.

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Good? Okay? Absolutely horrible?

Tell me!


	2. Huber House Hell

Thanks to all the people that read, but extra, uber thanks to those that reviewed. They make my day!

This was originally supposed to be two chapters but… eh. I'm too lazy. So it's long. Er.

Huber House Hell

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"Roxas, could you take this up to the market for me?"

Roxas groaned. He turned to his mother, giving his best puppy-eyed pout. Unfortunately, his mother was the master of pouting, and countered with one of her own. Even Roxas was not immune.

"Fine," he muttered, grabbing the bag of vegetables in one arm and heading out the door.

He glanced in the bag as he wandered up Himmel Street. Carrots, tomatoes, and small red potatoes filled it entirely. He picked out a small carrot and chomped away.

'Mom grows the best veggies,' he thought absently.

The light breeze ruffled his bright blonde hair, making it even wilder. He caught a reddish gold leaf as it blew past him, twirling the stem between his fingers as he walked.

"Roxas! Hey, Roxas," a small blonde girl called, running over to him. "What are you doing?"

"Hey, Naminé," he replied, smiling. "I'm just taking these to the market for mom." He held up the paper bag of produce.

"Oh, how nice of you. Your mom grows the best veggies," she said, browsing through the bag. Her white dress fluttered in the wind.

Roxas nodded. "Yeah, I was just thinking that."

Naminé stopped, staring across the street. "Who is that?"

Roxas followed her gaze to see a tall, red-haired man climbing out of an olive drab jeep and limping into a low, concrete building. He wore an old army uniform and moved slowly using two battered looking crutches.

"I dunno," Roxas said quietly. "But he's going into Huber House. Isn't that where they send crippled veterans?"

"Oh, that's horrible! We should go see him," she exclaimed, grabbing onto Roxas' arm and tugging.

Roxas shook her hands off. "Naminé, we don't even _know_ him, why would we bother visiting him?" he said coldly. "Besides, I have other things to do. Look, call me later, okay? I need to hurry up and deliver these."

Naminé watched Roxas' retreating form as he walked briskly up the street.

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Axel stared up at the cracked white ceiling and cursed.

'Two days at Huber House and I am bored. Out. Of. My. Mind.'

Axel had spent one more week at the hospital with Demyx before the two were forced to separate; Demyx went back to the front, while Axel was sent to Huber House. The house was like a retirement home, only instead of being filled with cranky old people it was filled with cranky, injured, disillusioned men between eighteen and thirty. And there was no shuffleboard.

'I could go for some shuffleboard,' he thought dryly.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.

"Who is it?" he questioned in a sing-song voice.

"Housekeeping. Do you need anything, Mr. Jaeger?"

He sighed. For a moment he'd hoped it would be Demyx. "No, ma'am."

"Alright. Holler if you change your mind."

"Whatever," he whispered, closing his eyes.

Another day passed.

'Three days at Huber House and I am fucking bored. Out. Of. My. Fucking. Mind.'

Axel had memorized every crack of every wall of his tiny, off-white room. He had counted the tiles on the floor. He had jacked off a dozen times at least. He had done a hundred sit-ups, fifty push-ups, and then daydreamed about running a mile. And he was still bored.

'I hate this place.'

He rolled over onto his side and looked out the small, dirty window. As if fate hadn't already done enough to him, he was tortured with a perfect view of the local high school's running track. Dozens of boys and girls only a couple years younger than him were enjoying themselves out there, running like fools and not even realizing how lucky they were.

"They make me sick," he muttered, peeling a strip of flaking paint from the wall.

A light knock came at the door.

"Who is it?" he growled.

"It's Aerith. Can I come in?"

Axel softened. "Oh, sure, Aerith. I didn't know it was you."

She peeked her head through the door. "I figured that," she said sweetly. "Come on! You should get outside, Axel. You need the fresh air." She sat on the edge of his bed and put a hand on his shoulder. Axel could smell the flowers on her.

"Yeah, I think this room is doing things to me," he agreed. "Making me insane, you know?"

She nodded and smiled. "I know. I work here, remember?"

Over the last two days Aerith had become Axel's only source of conversation and his confidant. She often came with flowers, or a book, or something else to keep him occupied. Axel, in turn, regaled her with war stories, leaving out some of the more… interesting bits.

"Tell you what," she started. "Tomorrow I have the afternoon off! You can come with me," she said enthusiastically, clapping her hands together.

Axel watched her, one eyebrow cocked. "Come with you where?"

"I don't know. To the market, maybe to a few stores. Destati is a rather small town," she said thoughtfully. "I could introduce you to a few of my friends." Aerith looked positively overjoyed at the idea of it.

"That sounds fantastic," he mumbled, unsure of whether or not he felt up to meeting these people, or even going out in public at all, for that matter. Up until now he had ventured out of his room only to use the bathroom and bathe. "I'll think about it," he promised, pushing a hand through unruly, spiky locks.

"Okay," Aerith sighed, standing and heading to the door. "But you'd better come, Axel, or else." She gave her best attempt at a stern glare, hands on her hips and her eyebrows drawn together. Axel laughed, and Aerith closed the door, giggling.

He stared outside for a few minutes more, before rolling over onto his stomach. He laid his head down on top of folded hands, waiting for sleep and hoping for a dreamless night.

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"Axel, if you don't come out of there this instant I'll-I'll… I'll drag you out," Aerith said with a tone of finality. She had been arguing with Axel all morning, and her nearly infinite patience was running thin.

"You wouldn't," he challenged from behind the door. "I'd like to see you try, though."

Aerith heard chuckling from inside the room.

'Oh, this is _on_,' she told herself. She set to work picking the lock on Axel's door. It popped in a matter of seconds, and she moved into the room with all the authority and confidence of a person well practiced in breaking and entering.

Axel gaped. "You-You weren't supposed to--"

"Come on," she interrupted, "and get on your feet." With surprising strength, she half hauled Axel onto his good foot, and then handed him his trusty (if a little rusty) crutches.

"Now let's go," she commanded, brushing a loose strand of chestnut hair behind her ear.

Axel made a noise of dissension, which promptly became a shy 'Yes, ma'am' upon seeing the fierce determination in Aerith's eyes, and followed her out the door.

'You'll thank me, Axel.'

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"I'm tired," Axel whined, sulking under one of the large tents in the marketplace.

"Stop complaining," Aerith chided, kneeling down to examine some watermelons and papayas.

'Damn,' Axel thought, 'who knew Aerith could be such a hard-ass?'

"Oh, Aerith!" an older woman exclaimed, making Axel look up in surprise. "How are you? It's been awhile, hasn't it?" The woman looked about forty, though still very pretty, with dark blue eyes and long, chocolate brown hair.

"Mrs. Marisova, it's great to see you again," Aerith said happily, hugging the older woman. "Where are Sora and Roxas?"

"Oh, you know those two," Mrs. Marisova laughed, "always getting into something around here. I just can't keep up with them anymore. And who is this?" she questioned, smiling at Axel.

Axel was acutely self conscious. He shuffled in a sad attempt to hide the crutches. He was used to getting looks for his glaring hair, his facial tattoos, his recent eyebrow piercing, and some of his rather loud comments, but those things never bothered him. He didn't want attention for being hurt.

"This is Axel Jaeger," Aerith answered for him. "And Axel, this is Mrs. Kala Marisova. She lives further down the street, and she grows most of the vegetables you see here."

Axel leaned on one crutch and scratched his head nervously. "Um… hi."

He stuck out a hand to shake, which Mrs. Marisova accepted warmly.

"It's wonderful to meet you, Axel," she said, giving him a once over and seemingly approving. The two women chatted idly for a few minutes before telling Axel they needed to visit another tent, and that they would be back in a few minutes.

Axel leaned against a wall and pulled out a crumpled cigarette. He watched a few more people come close, only to scurry away at the sight of him.

'All well enough,' he thought amiably.

Axel wasn't a scary guy, really, but he could make himself rather intimidating if he chose to. He purposefully drew himself up, shoulders a little forward, a mildly angry expression on his face.

Two more people wandered towards him- teenaged boys, he guessed from their voices. They laughed about something and continued on their path toward Axel, oblivious to his presence. He was nearly about to tell them off when the two looked up at him.

The first looked familiar to Axel. With deep brown hair and deep blue eyes, he echoed his mother.

'This must be one of Mrs. Marisova's kids,' he decided, turning slightly to see the second of the two.

The second was more remarkable looking, in Axel's opinion. His heart ached at seeing him. The blonde hair and crystalline blue eyes reminded him of someone entirely different, someone he himself had killed not three weeks earlier.

'They could be brothers, this boy and that soldier.' His chest tightened.

"Um… hey. Are you okay?" the brunette asked Axel, waving his hand up and down in front of his face. Axel fought to resist the urge to swat at it.

"Huh?" Axel asked, eloquent as always.

"You're a little spaced out. It's probably the cigarettes," he added, matter-of-factly. "My mom says those things do all kinds of nasty things to people."

Axel looked peeved. "Does she, now?" He put out the cigarette with his fingers and tossed it into a nearby trash can. Axel was big on not littering.

"Uh-huh," Chocolate-Hair answered. "My name's Sora Marisova."

Sora looked expectantly to the blonde, who remained silent.

"And this," Sora continued, "is my brother, Roxas. Roxas Marisova. We have the same last name," he babbled. "Cause we're brothers. Brothers do that."

Axel kept his eyes locked on Roxas, studying his spiky yellow hair, his angry blue eyes, his harsh frown, and his black and white attire. A small, crooked cross around the boy's neck caught his attention.

'Lookin' good,' he thought, amused. 'Also angry, and a little annoyed, but good.'

"Hey," Roxas finally said, "don't you know that staring is rude?" He crossed his arms and leaned back. Axel waited for him to continue, but it quickly became apparent that Roxas was done talking.

"Yeah, yeah. You just look like someone I knew, that's all. Forgive me for looking," he added sarcastically, gathering up his crutches and hobbling off.

He heard Sora whispering loudly behind him. "Look what you did now, Rox! You scared him away, and we don't even know his _name_, yet. Can't you be nice? Just for once?"

"Fine." Roxas sighed heavily, jogging over to Axel, who had only made it fifteen feet or so during the brothers' conversation.

"Hey," Roxas said without much conviction. Axel didn't stop.

Roxas narrowed his eyes. "Hey," he said more forcefully, putting a hand on Axel's arm. "Would you stop?"

Axel pivoted on one crutch and faced him.

Roxas let go and stepped back. "You can move pretty well for a guy with just one leg," he muttered. Axel caught the mild sarcasm in his tone.

"I don't have just one fucking leg, kid," he said stiffly. "In case you haven't noticed, both are still fully attached." He tapped against his left leg with the crutch to prove so, never once breaking eye contact with the blonde.

Neither spoke.

Roxas turned away first, sliding a hand to the back of his neck. "Fine. Okay, I'm sorry. You have two legs. One just happens to suck. Is that better?"

Axel considered. "Yes. Yes, it is."

Roxas watched the older man as he maneuvered himself to a nearby bench, plunking down heavily. Axel looked up toward Roxas and patted the empty space next to him. Roxas shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie before ambling over.

They sat in silence for the first few minutes. "So… what's your name?"

"Axel Jaeger."

Roxas shifted uncomfortably, not used to being the one asking all the questions.

"How did you… I mean- What happened to your leg?" Roxas blurted out, unable to contain the question he'd had in the back of his mind the whole time.

"Does it matter?"

"Well… no. But I'd like to know."

Axel craned his neck back, staring into the sky.

"If I told you it happened when I leapt in front of an out of control school bus to save an orphan, would you believe me?"

"No."

"If I said an enraged lion escaped from the circus and mauled me?"

"No."

"If I said I was break dancing and hit a door?"

"No," Roxas said louder, growing frustrated. "Why don't you just tell me the truth?"

"Because I don't remember," Axel said simply.

Roxas' eyes widened. "What do you mean? How could you _not _remember something like that?"

Axel twiddled his thumbs. Yes, twiddled. "I dunno. I remember it being okay, and then I remember realizing it wasn't okay a while later. I don't know when it happened or even what happened. I got too close to a mine, or maybe a grenade."

Roxas looked at his feet. "So, it wasn't a gun or anything?"

"Nope, too much shrapnel for it to be a gun." He looked over at Roxas, mildly surprised. He hadn't even told Aerith about this; he wondered why he was sharing so much with this bratty kid.

'Oh yeah,' he remembered. 'He reminds me of that guy, that soldier. He makes me feel bad.'

Axel's guilt got the better of him.

"Well, I'd better get going," he said, grabbing his crutches. "It's spaghetti night at Huber House, and I can't miss that," he said with a hint of sarcasm.

Roxas quickly stood up beside him. "Right. Maybe… I dunno. Maybe I'll see you around?" he questioned over his shoulder, already starting to walk away.

"Why not?" Axel agreed. He knew the blonde boy wouldn't seek him out, but that they might run into each other again soon. "It's a small town."

Axel crossed the street and headed back to Huber House, vaguely excited by the notion of spaghetti.

'It was nice to be outside,' he admitted to himself. 'I'll do that again.'

He entered the house and headed straight for his room, nearly running into Aerith as he hurried down one of the hallways.

'Oops.'

"Aerith," he started, worried. "I completely forgot. I'm sorry. I sat down, and started talking, and I just kept--"

"It's okay, Axel. Sora came and told us. I figured you would come back when you were good and ready," she said. "Sounds like you had fun! Are you making lots of friends?" she asked concernedly.

"Yes, mom," Axel kidded lightly. Aerith really was the motherly type, and Axel was grateful. It felt good to have someone here worrying for him.

"Night," she whispered, setting a tray of spaghetti on his nightstand.

Axel nodded in reply as she closed the door, waving goodbye.

He twirled the fork between his fingers, idly mulling over the events of the day, surprised to find that it had been the most fun he'd had since he'd come to this God-forsaken place. He smiled. And then, without warning, he attacked the defenseless spaghetti.

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I will now solicit you for reviews!


	3. The New Deal

**Arg. I'm sorry it took so long! This was super hard for me at first, but it got easier now that school's coming to a close. **

**As for the time period of this, I have to be honest and say that I have no idea. Sorry! If it helps, think of it as being like… an alternate WWII. **

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'_Another day, another… gah, I can't even think.'_ Axel rolled out of bed and thudded onto the floor. He'd stopped counting the days he'd been in the hellhole known as Huber House.

"I need to remember that this bed isn't very wide. I really _need_ to remember that," he muttered from the floor, beginning the arduous task of pulling himself back up. He sat on the rumpled bed and looked out his window at the now empty running track, wistful.

'_I think it's time to revisit the outside world,'_ he decided.

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Axel lit a cigarette and held it to his lips, half shutting his eyes in bliss as he took the first drag. He scraped lightly against the dirt of the running track with the tip of his scuffed black shoe. Surprisingly, smoking hadn't come easy to Axel. It was something he'd started purely by copying others. It wasn't much, but it was something to do during the long stretches of boredom between fighting.

"What are you doing here? If you were watching us run, I'll be freaked out," Roxas accused, approaching the redhead with distrust all over his face. "Are you a stalker?"

Axel's jaw dropped and his cigarette came dangerously close to falling out. "I am not a _stalker_," he said incredulously. Words failed him, so he resorted to waving his arms angrily to express himself. "You're Roxas, right?"

"Right," Roxas agreed warily. "You just came out here to do a few laps around the track, then?"

Axel snorted. "Is this some kind of sick hobby of yours? Do you fucking get off on making fun of injured veterans?"

"No, just you," Roxas said flatly, looking Axel right in the eye. His boldness unnerved the redhead.

Axel smirked, not breaking eye contact. "Lucky me. But shouldn't you be running off to class now, schoolboy?" he asked snidely, looking up at the sky.

Roxas shuffled, looking down at his feet. "No, I have a free period."

The redhead studied the blonde boy carefully. He was still wearing his soiled gym clothes, which looked to be a few sizes too small. Axel sighed. "I came out to talk to the coaches here, if you must know. But they had already gone inside by the time I made it over here, so know I'm just having a smoke before I have to drag myself all the way back to the house," he said in one long, angry breath.

"You wanted to see Coach Leonhart? Why?"

"Why do you care? You'll just laugh anyway, you vet-hater." Axel finished the cigarette and extinguished it on one of his crutches. He tucked the butt into his pocket.

"Will not," Roxas protested, crossing his arms and frowning. "I happen to be a very sensitive person."

"Your school has a weight room, right? I wanted to use it," he said haltingly. "I'm going crazy with boredom at Huber House. I'm thinking about working on my leg." Axel blushed lightly but didn't look away from the young blonde.

"Your leg?" he asked, eyeing said limb. "To do what? Walk again? Get a job?"

"Uh… to go back to the front."

Roxas slapped the older man hard on the chest, leaving Axel taken aback. "You're insane! You get half blown up, and you don't even remember it, and you can't even fucking walk, and now you want to fix yourself up just to _go back_? You're suicidal. Or stupid. Or both," he finished huffily.

"I think that's the most I've ever heard you say all at once," Axel said with an amused smile. "Maybe I should make you freak out a little more often. It makes you a little less cold."

"Yeah… Well, I'm human. I get riled up. But why do you want to go back? People run _away_ from that kind of stuff," Roxas said disbelievingly, widening his eyes to emphasize his point.

"I'm not retarded, kid; I know that. But it's where I need to be. My best friend is there, too. We went into this thing together, and now he's there alone. But even if he wasn't, I'd still go. Not that I'd have any choice, really," he added mildly. "It's not like I have anywhere to go anymore-- I had to sell my apartment when I got drafted, had to quit my old job, sell most of my possessions. When you're poor like me, there isn't much you can do when you get caught up in a war."

Roxas sniffed.

"I take it you're pretty well off, eh? A nice house, a fancy education at a fancy private school, safe and secure in a cozy little town far away from the fighting; am I right? You don't even worry about getting drafted, do you? No, they don't take people like you-- the future doctors and lawyers and politicians," Axel said, his tone tainted with spite.

"You talk an awful lot for not even knowing me," Roxas said harshly. "I may be cold, but at least I'm not a jealous, igno--"

"Okay, okay," Axel interrupted, waving his hands apologetically. "I'm sorry. That was wrong of me. I was being an asshole."

"A judgmental asshole," the blonde agreed.

"Yes," Axel agreed, grinding his teeth. "I was being a judgmental, bitter asshole. And why not add 'jealous bastard' to the list as well?" he asked sarcastically.

"Why not?" Roxas agreed again.

"Maybe you should leave," the redhead gritted out. "Before I smack you upside the head with a crutch." He waved one of the crutches menacingly.

"I'm very scared." Roxas rolled his eyes, none too threatened by the battered stick.

"As you should be," Axel all but pouted. "So… are you going to leave now?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Roxas sighed. "I can't just leave you alone out here. What if you tipped over? And then you couldn't get up? You'd be like a defenseless turtle, and anyone could step on you or run you over or sit on you. I can't have that weighing down on my conscience."

"If I didn't know any better I'd almost say you cared," Axel teased.

"I do care. I'm not a _total_ bastard, you know," he pouted. Roxas purposefully met the redhead's eyes, his brow wrinkling slightly as he sought confirmation from Axel. "I'm really not."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, kid. So, what? Are you going to walk me home?" Axel snickered. His laughter faded quickly as he saw the look of quiet determination on the blonde's face. "Shit. You're serious. You are seriously, really, honestly going to walk me home?"

"It looks that way," Roxas said flatly as he stepped forward and carefully grabbed the older man's elbow.

"Oh, no, no, no," Axel objected. He pulled away-- or tried to, at least. Roxas' grip became iron-like, holding him fast to the spot. "I will not be escorted home by a _kid_ who's _younger_, and _shorter_, and--"

"Let's go." Roxas kicked at Axel's heel impatiently. "And I don't see what me being shorter has to do with this," he complained, looking up at Axel irritably.

"Hah, you had to look up at me just to say that. It only proves my point."

"You don't have a point," Roxas fumed. He walked back to the street at an even pace, Axel in tow. "You don't make sense! You're crazy and crippled and you need to go stay in your safe little government housing facility where you can't hurt yourself."

"Thanks. No, really. Thanks a lot for that," the redhead bit out sarcastically. "I love tiny, dirty white rooms. I love institution food. And I love all the fun activities we get to do-- sewing pillows, and knitting socks, and cockroach poaching, and playing cards with a bunch of cheating assholes that keep trying to sneak into my room and steal my shit."

Roxas chewed his lip and raised his eyebrows. "I take it you don't get along with them very well?"

"Hell no. Half of them are crazy with shell-shock, and most of the others are just bastards. I'm pretty sure that I'm the only reasonably sane one in the bunch."

"Oh," Roxas acknowledged, stopping in front of the main doors of Axel's current residence. "Well, I guess this is it."

"Sure is," Axel agreed. "Are you sure you don't want to come inside? Hear some half-true combat stories? Maybe lose in a game of mahjong? Play with some rigged dice? Hey, I think they're serving leftover soup! It sucked yesterday, but maybe the night in the fridge got rid of the garlic aftertaste. I hope so."

"I think I'll pass." Roxas felt a little queasy, to be honest. "I'd better get going," he said, taking a few steps back. "Have fun with your mahjong… and soup. Uh. Bye." He turned and strode away quickly, nearly tripping over the curb in his hurry.

Axel laughed as he imagined Roxas' ears and cheeks going red at the clumsy move, at the way he might embarrassedly rub at his nose. Or perhaps sniff indignantly. Yes, an indignant sniff seemed to suit him more. The redhead let his thoughts wander as he clanked through the desolate halls. In his mind's eye, he imagined how Roxas would look if he laughed-- blushing and trying to fight it, eyes squeezed shut. Maybe with watering eyes, or gasping breath. Oh, how badly Axel wanted to see that.

He smiled to himself, all too aware of where these kinds of thoughts were leading him.

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"Roxas! You'll never guess what happened to me on the bus this morning! This guy was _smiling_ at me, and _talking_ to me… you know, I think--"

"Not right now, Sora," Roxas muttered. "I'm doing homework."

The brunette plopped himself onto his brother's bed, lying over the side to peer over Roxas' shoulder. "Whatcha doing?"

The blonde leaned back against his bed, stretching his legs out on the floor before him. "Homework. Homework for my creative writing class. Homework for my creative writing class that is currently kicking my ass. Why do you care?"

"I wanted to ask you about that Axel guy."

"Oh, God. Come on, Sora. It's not like I'm friends with the guy," Roxas said as he gave his brother a pointed glare.

"Well, Nida told Vaan who told Reks who told Lulu who told me that you were indeed _speaking_ with said Axel-man after class on Friday-- don't deny it-- and that is enough for me to be interested, so I want to hear about _everything_," Sora gushed in a rapid slur of words. "I'm your brother. I'm allowed to be concerned for you and interrogate you about your life."

"Oh really? Does that mean I get to interrogate _you _about Riku?"

". . ."

"I see. Hypocrite."

"But that's completely different! You know how Riku and I are," Sora said, pressing the tips of his fingers together and looking down. "It's awkward, and talking about it makes me mildly uncomfortable."

"Trying to keep it on the 'down low'?" Roxas curved his fingers into little air quotes when he said it, prompting Sora to throw a pillow at his head.

"Yes, Rox," Sora sighed, rolling his eyes. "We are a secret. You can keep a secret, can't you?"

Roxas sung softly, letting his voice be just loud enough for Sora to hear. _"Secret lovers, that's what we are. We should not be togeth-- _umph. Damn you, Sora!" the blonde cried, rubbing the side of his head. "Why are you so touchy?"

"I'm not," Sora smirked. "I just get loads of sick satisfaction from kicking your head."

"Kind of like how I'll get loads of sick satisfaction from declaring your love to Riku at school tomorrow?" Roxas asked innocently, fluttering his eyelashes and smiling.

Sora's face darkened. "You will not speak of it."

"Maybe."

"It's nice to know that our brotherly blood has such strong ties," the brunette noted sourly. He flicked at Roxas' head, starting something of a slap-flick fight between the two.

"Ick. Blood," Roxas shuddered as he blindly slapped at Sora's hand. "I bet Axel's seen a lot of blood," he thought out loud.

"You think?" Sora asked him, eyes wide. He stopped moving, watching Roxas intently for the answer.

"Seeing as he _went to war_, yes."

"Is that what he talked to you about?"

"Uh, no. But I did find out that he is eligibly insane. He actually wants to go _back_, can you believe that?"

"Why? Why does he want to go back?" Sora asked simply, his eyebrows knitting with confusion.

"I dunno. Something about his friend being there, and not having anywhere else to go," Roxas replied, scratching his head guiltily. He felt bad for the man, and a small part of him was stung by what Axel had said-- '_You don't even worry about getting drafted, do you?_' It was true. The possibility had never even crossed his mind. People from families like his were special cases, exempted from drafting and rationing.

"That's so sad," Sora said with a frown, pushing his face closer to his brother. "You know what we should do? Invite him to stay here!"

"What? Have you lost it, Sora? We can't invite some poor, disabled, half-crazy freak to live in our house! Talking to him is one thing, but letting him live with us? Do you _want_ to have your throat slit while you sleep?"

"No. No, I do not," Sora said slowly. He eyed Roxas coolly. "You just don't get it, do you?" Sora licked his lips and looked out the window. "We've got it easy, Rox. Compared to most people, at least. Helping other people out is a risk, but it's worth it."

"I disagree. No one shou--"

"If it was you," Sora interrupted, "you would be praying for intervention, for any help at all. Think of yourself in his place. It wouldn't hurt you to try putting yourself in someone else's shoes for once, Roxas. Look and listen. Compassion never killed anyone."

Sora rolled off of the bed and walked quietly from the room, shutting the door softly behind him. Roxas pursed his lips, fuming internally at Sora's tirade. Lately, it seemed like he couldn't do a thing right for anyone. Did they expect him to be perfect? All-understanding?

He glared down at the blank sheet of paper in his notebook. He frowned at the empty lines.

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"Hey, Axel. Axel. Axel. Hey, Axel. Hey--"

"_What_, Luxord? Why do you insist on bothering me incessantly? What the fuck could possibly be so Goddamn important that you have to drive me insane?"

The goateed blonde smiled and shuffled his deck. "I wanted to invite you to a game of poker." Four others sat around him at the small, round table. They smiled to each other and nodded.

"With you? And with a loaded deck? I'd have to be insane," the redhead smirked. "But I know for a fact that two newbies just arrived yesterday."

"We'll have to give them a proper welcome, then, eh?" Luxord chuckled. "Sit down, Axel. Let's talk." He nodded to the men at his table, who immediately got up and left. Luxord pulled out the chair next to him and offered it to Axel.

"What would you like to talk about?" Axel asked suspiciously as he took a seat.

Luxord pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered one to the man. "How's the leg?"

"Shitty, as always. How's the stomach laceration?"

"Painful, as always. But now that we've gotten that out of the way, there's something else I'd like to discuss," Luxord said as he let out a mouthful of smoke. "I'm told you were a part of the 102nd. That's no small achievement."

Axel smiled broadly. "I was drafted-- I knew I was going to end up on the battlefield no matter what, so why not join the best unit? If you're gonna do something, do it right."

Luxord chuckled along with the redhead. "Did you ever meet a man named Xigbar? I'm fairly certain that he was in the 102nd as well."

"Xigbar?" Axel leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. "I don't… wait-- guy with an eyepatch? I think I've seen him. Yeah, I remember hearing that name."

"He's okay?"

"Last I remember."

"That's wonderful," Luxord grinned. "He's an old friend of mine."

"So, was there any other reason for calling me over? I mean, as much as I love this bonding moment we're having…"

"I saw that fight you had with Lexaeus," Luxord said quickly. "You surprised me. Us. And you're lucky you didn't get kicked out for that shit."

"Yeah," Axel agreed, trying very hard to keep from bragging. "It was pretty great, wasn't it? He didn't expect it at all."

Luxord nodded. "He most certainly didn't. But it makes me wonder about you, Axel. You don't get a right hook like that from nowhere. What were you before-- a boxer?"

"Hah, I wish. But I had plenty of time to practice my punches. I got into more than my fair share of street fights as a kid," Axel grinned. "Never lost." He exhaled, blowing a thin stream of smoke into the air.

"Never?" Luxord said, looking interested. "Listen, I have a proposition for you--"

"Sorry, I'll pass. I'm not interested in fighting in some rigged match for you," Axel said lowly. He rubbed his cigarette out on the table and tossed it into a nearby trashcan. "Thanks for the smoke."

Luxord watched the redhead emotionlessly as he rose from the table. "If you ever change your mind," he said quietly.

"I know where you'll be," Axel finished for him.

Aerith stuck her head through the door of the recreation room. "Axel!" she squealed. "You have a visitor! Get out here, hurry up! You'll never believe who it is."

The redhead nodded a goodbye to Luxord before hobbling into the next room over. Aerith fretted and cooed over him, fixing his hair and straightening out his clothes. He sat on one of the plush black chairs of the visitors' room and awkwardly laid his crutches on the coffee table in front of him. The cramped room had peeling, flowered wallpaper and plump chairs covered with equally plump pillows.

"You wait here," Aerith said, clapping her hands together excitedly, "and I'll go get him. Oh, Axel! You're finally getting friends, and good ones, too! This is the beginning of something wonderful." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Okay, I'll be right back."

"Alrighty," Axel mumbled as he flipped through one of the magazines that was conveniently laid out on the table. He looked up as the door creaked open.

"Surprise," Roxas said flatly as he shut the door behind him.

"Surprise indeed," Axel smirked. "So you decided to take me up on the offer? I knew it was just a matter of time."

Roxas frowned and sat down across from the redhead. He laid his notebook down on the table, pushing the crutches closer to Axel to make room. "I came to make a deal," Roxas said, looking down. Axel delighted in the obvious reluctance and discomfort of the blonde. "My main project for my writing class is due in three weeks. It's really, really important for my portfolio. My chances of getting a scholarship to the university I want to go to are halved if I don't have a piece of work like this," Roxas said in one breath. "I was wondering if you would help me."

"Help you? I hate to break this to you, kid, but I didn't even finish high school. Grammar ain't my forte."

"You don't have to tell me that," Roxas said acidly. "I don't need grammar help. I can do that. It's… subject help. I need a good story, something moving and touching but gritty and realistic and all that. Preferably with a happy ending."

"I haven't got one of those, unfortunately. A happy ending, I mean." Axel leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He looked up at Roxas from under surprisingly thick, dark eyelashes. "I can give you gritty and realistic. Moving, too. Touching… maybe. But what do I get?"

Roxas sighed, hoping and praying that this moment had not come. "You get… you get to stay with us. If you want. In our house."

"Are you fucking serious!? That mansion up the street?"

"It's not a _mansion_."

"Close enough," the redhead shouted, smacking the table. "Hell yes, I will definitely take you up on that. When can I move in? Right now? I'll go get my crap," Axel said excitedly, reaching for his crutches.

"Hold on," Roxas said sternly, pulling the crutches away. "We need to lay down the ground rules first. Number one, you have to work with me on this story whenever I need you to. That means midnights, long afternoons, during meals; it's going to take forever to check sources and find details."

"Kay, I got it."

"Number two, you aren't allowed into any of our rooms without permission. Three, no stealing. Four, be polite, especially to my mom. Five, less cursing. Six--"

"We can do this when we get there! Let's go, let's go, let's go," Axel said, bouncing in his seat with pent up joy. "Please? I want to get out of here! No more government hellhole for me. Uh-huh, that's right."

"Fine. You go get your bag, and I'll wait up at the front door. Hurry up." Roxas stood and left without another word.

Axel was too exuberant to notice. He was humming as he shuffled out of the room, whistling as he traversed the maze of hallways, and outright singing by the time he reached his room.

He opened the door to find Aerith sitting on his bed, her hands resting on his already-packed bags.

"Hey, Axel," she said softly, standing up to give him a hug. "I'm so happy you found somewhere else to go! I know you hate it here."

"Well, there are some things I like," Axel replied, leaning awkwardly on one crutch to return the embrace. "I'll have to come back and visit you… no! You have to come to Roxas' house, and visit me! That'll be way better."

"Definitely," she agreed, pulling herself away. She put her hands on his shoulders and looked him square in the eye. "Don't mess this up, Axel. Most of the soldiers who come here end up staying until they die. I don't want to see you back here, understand?"

"Absolutely," Axel promised. "I'll be good." He smirked mischievously. "When have I ever not been?"

"Oh, I don't know," Aerith said sarcastically as she hefted Axel's bags into her arms and walked out the door. "Maybe that time you beat Lexaeus? Or the time you decided leaving dead fish in the bedpans was fun? Or when you staged a protest against Meatloaf Mondays?"

"Hey, that last one was totally valid," Axel argued as he followed her through the hallways, nodding and shouting out 'goodbyes' and 'see ya's' and 'fuck offs'. "By the way, Aerith, how did you know I was leaving? You had all my stuff mysteriously ready for me when I got there," he asked suspiciously, raising one red eyebrow inquisitively.

"I have my ways."

"Eavesdropper," he mumbled with a smile. "I swear, the more I get to know you, the more you seem like some kind of covert ops ninja."

The girl smiled secretively and gave him a wink.

"Took you long enough," Roxas said flatly when they reached the front desk. Axel raised his eyebrows but said nothing; Aerith glared at him and mouthed 'Don't mess this up' every time her back was facing Roxas.

"Do I get my own room?" Axel asked impatiently as he followed Roxas to the busy street outside.

"Yes."

"… Is it on the ground floor?"

"Yes."

"Does it have a window?"

"Two."

"Excellent," the redhead murmured as he savored the moment. The sun's dying rays tingled over his body. The surge of excitement and anticipation hadn't worn off. Axel smiled as he followed Roxas from behind, studying the blonde the entire time. From the tips of the tallest strands of his golden blonde hair down to a thin waist and narrow hips, and even further down to his pants-covered legs and his heavily decorated shoes.

Axel felt gratitude welling inside him; it lifted his spirits and burned in him like fire, but at the same time made him uneasy. It was something he'd only truly felt a number of times in his life, and the majority of those instances had occurred on battlefields after he'd just been saved by a comrade or spared by God. Strangely, he felt as though he'd just been saved.

"Roxas?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

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**OMG that took forever. I'm a horrible person for going so long without updating this. God, did it even make sense? I don't know anymore. So yeah... I managed to eke out a good 10 pages. w00t! I apologize for spelling errors and whatnot. **

**I'm actually kinda looking forward to the next chapters, since I get actually to character pasts and stuff. I'm a geek, and I love that kind of stuff. XD (Pretty much everything in here I've made up. Just FYI)**

**Thank you x 1000 for the people that reviewed! Reviews keep me sane! And sanity is a horrible thing to waste. my lame way of begging for reviews I'm shameless!**

**:p**


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